


Halloween on Christmas

by EvilMuffins



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Cake, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12570452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: Every day was Halloween for him, wasn’t it? Ibuki mused. Costume after costume, disguise after disguise, day after day an endless parade of pretend.---Even during Despair, the seasons still turn.





	Halloween on Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoslam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoslam/gifts).



> *slides into your gifts page* Did someone say Heirguitar??  
> I was really excited to see a request for these two! I hope setting it during Despair was alright! It's still slightly fluffy, maybe?  
> Happy Halloween!

A biting breeze whistled in past jagged shards clinging to the window frame, numbing Ibuki’s fingers and slowing their progress across the page. The music that she played now had no real need for lyrics -so long as it served to make eardrums leak with red with every strum of her guitar- but writing them was the important part- death, loss, illness, war, pain…the lyrics served as a reminder of the Despair she had been made to crave.

A vague thought came to her as she blew warm air over her fingertips that it must be around what would have been Halloween time in their old lives. It had always been her most favorite holiday back in school- games, and songs, and dress up, and food…

“Mioda?” came a voice from the direction of the apartment’s doorway. “Are you in?”

“Yes indeedy!” Her pencil fell to the bed, rolling off and onto the matted fibers that might have once been a carpet, as Ibuki leapt up to greet him. Although he often scolded her for still speaking in the same childish way that she did back in school, Ibuki continued to insist that it was much more Despair-inducing for such playful speech to be the last thing a person ever heard. “Welcome home, Byakuya-chan!”

As she trotted out into the kitchen, Ibuki could see that he carried a box, which he deposited in the middle of the dusty table, after shoving a mound of make up and facial prosthetics mingled with snapped guitar strings and busted drumsticks, aside to make room.

“Is there something on my face?” the man asked, pushing up his white frames. As expected, the Imposter was clad in his ‘Byakuya Togami’ disguise once again that day. Although he had taken up the identity of Ryouta Mitarai during school, these days he had been favoring the severe countenance of their once-affluent underclassmen in order to better influence the masses through his family name.

Every day was Halloween for him, wasn’t it? Ibuki mused. Costume after costume, disguise after disguise, day after day an endless parade of pretend.

Ibuki shook her head vigorously. “Ibuki just thinks that her Byakuya-chan is looking super duper high school level handsome today! That’s all.”

“Is that so?” As he moved away from the table, she could see the red stains stark on his beige suit, like the candy coating over the white flesh of an apple. “I was out working with Hanamura today.” He gestured toward the white cardboard box. “He gave us a care package.”

Ibuki trotted over to inspect the box, gently plucking at the tape holding it shut. “If it’s a care package, ya gotta open it with care!”

‘Byakuya’ frowned, crossing his arms. Ibuki made certain to take extra long in prying it open.

“A cake?” Ibuki pointed at herself after revealing the contents, orange and black frosting ornamenting the top. “Is it Ibuki’s birthday?”

They didn’t celebrate birthdays anymore; it had sounded funnier in her head.

Beginning to rummage in a drawer, Byakuya spoke over his shoulder, “We still need to eat, or we will lack the strength to continue in our mission.”

Producing two forks in varying states of wash, he handed one off to Ibuki.

“What’s it made of?” Ibuki chirped, prodding the side of it with her fork. Knowing the way the Super High School Level Chef was now, he could have been experimenting with any number of things- broken glass or poison- the frosting serving as disguise.

Byakuya dug in, scooping up a heaping forkful, crumbs tumbling to the ground as it entered his mouth. “It’s not fast food, but it’ll do.” He said around his mouth full.

Filling up her own fork, tines stuffed with red-velvet like so much meat between ribs, rather than bringing it to her own mouth, Ibuki linked her elbow with the Imposter’s as she feed it to him instead, watching his round cheeks as he chewed.

Maybe it was Halloween everyday for all them, she thought. Wearing their Despair like a mask, obscuring who they once were.

 


End file.
